Strings of The Puppet
by SilverXFeathers
Summary: The story of a former Black Mage, from his early life as a simple B Type to what he is now. Original character.
1. Chapter I: Preview

**Strings of The Puppet**

By: Silver Feathers

Author Note: Start writing your flames, because this 'fic **does** contain an OC (original character) for the world of FFIX. I don't much enjoy stories like those either, most of the time, but do bear with me. Love it, hate it, but please review it. If you would like to see art of the OC done by myself, go to the homepage link located on my profile. Also note that this chapter is meant as a preview, and should be treated as such.

----

"I'll never know,  
I'll never care,  
I'll never believe my people,  
I'll tell you what I say.  
I'll never lie,  
I'll never try,  
I'll never cry for you people.  
I'll push you,  
Push you away…"

-- _You_, Candlebox

----

Humans take for granted what most of Them never get to experience: the right to choose. Something as simple as moving is not up to them, but rather the programming they are given at their 'births', the orders they are given and expected to obey without question. They are mindless soldiers of destruction, bringing about the deaths of hundreds without any remorse, or knowledge of what it is they are doing.

None of them are ever expected to awaken from this mindless state, to see the world with their own eyes; yet some do. They awaken with little warning, most of them within the depths of bloodshed, the images forever scaring and burning their virgin minds. They are thrust into a world that shuns them, hates them for what was done by their hands while under that brainwashing spell. They do not understand the simplest things in life, such as why the clouds in the sky do not fall, why fire burns. Do not laugh; they are like infants without a mother, left to teach themselves, all the while haunted by the fact that they are monsters to every other creature. They will never know what it is to be normal, because they were never created to be such.

Black Mages. These dangerous, yet gentle creatures of simple minds. I was one once, a quiet B Type with nothing special that made me different from the others, except for one thing: I had awoken shortly after my 'birth'. I knew nothing of the destruction the others brought in their wake, the violent creatures they were created to be. Since I was 'defective', unable to be used in war, I lived out much of my early life as a servant in the Castle. I was much out of place amongst Her Majesty's royal guards, and treated more like a pet than an actual being of feeling, used and only kept around for my magic ability.

That was before Project Thirteen, and after the fall of the infamous Black Waltzes, the powerful cousins of the Black Mages. These winged creatures were failures, but the Queen wanted one last try. She wanted a creature that would surpass even the Black Waltzes, one that could replace the entire Black Mage Army. However, in order to create such a being from scratch, they needed a living vessel to toy with.

I was the beginning of the Project. The simple life I led beforehand would be shattered like a porcelain creation, and its pieces cast onto the wind. I would no longer be a Black Mage, with a number just like every other, a curious mind, and a lust to learn Why. I would become the next monster of Gaia, a creature of even greater damned birth than those before me.

I _was_ a Black Mage. I could have even been considered a Black Waltz.

Now… What am I?

----

Author Note: Flames, praise? You know what to do.


	2. Chapter II: Rumors

Strings of the Puppet

Chapter II: Rumors

By: Silver Feathers chapter. Damn. I usually don't get any farther than the first chapter with most of what I write.

Disclaimer: I own nothing other than my main character. Please don't steal him. That wouldn't be very nice.

-----

"Bleeding into life,

It's like a thousand knives

Are slowly turning me to this.

Why did it have to be like this?"

-- _Socio_, Stone Sour

The castle was busier than usual, with words like 'war' and 'army' being thrown around. 113 didn't understand what was being said as he stood in the main corridor, sweeping the dust from the stones, but knew that it caused a lot of tension between the guards and himself. At first, 113 thought that maybe he had done something wrong, like forgetting to tidy up well enough in their sleeping quarters, or leaving a window open through the nightly storm, but as the morning wore on, he just couldn't think of any other reason.

_Maybe they're just cranky_, he thought. _Walking around that much with all that armor on must he hard…_

As he finished the last of the sweeping, a new wave of female knights tromped in, their boots leaving mud all over the stones that he had just cleaned. His shoulders slumping, he sighed, and moved to lean the broom against the wall. That was when the she-knights left to guard the open archway started talking.

"Did you see all of those new mages they're making?" the one with a few locks of black hair poking out from beneath her helmet whispered to her companion. 113, trying to make himself look busy with his sweeping, though what he really needed to do was go get and bucket and a rag, crept closer until he could easily hear their conversation.

"Yeah," the blonde one answered, shifting nervously in her armor. "Those things give me the creeps. I don't see why Her Majesty uses them."

"Well, they're pretty powerful, and none too bright, so they follow their orders…" The other paused. "I heard something a little weird from Jamie the other day."

"Who, the one assigned to the dungeon?"

"Yeah. She said that she's seen those creepy jesters sneaking around down there. They keep bringing those mages with them, but the weird thing is, none of them ever come back out. And the noises…"

"Hey!" The blonde cried suddenly, startling 113 to where he nearly dropped his broom. "What're you doing, you little pointy-hatted freak? You aren't listening in, are you?"

Blinking, his mouth opening and closing as he grappled with a response, 113 merely stood there, staring at the two female guards. He _had_ been listening, but a lot of what was said didn't make any sense to him. He knew the jesters, Zorn and Thorn, occasionally running small errands for the two, all of them pretty harmless. So what was this about them being 'weird'? What was 'weird', anyway?

"Aw, leave it go, Sally," the black-haired guard soothed, "I doubt it understands anything we're saying, anyway. It's broken, remember?"

"Yeah, I guess," the other grunted, "I just don't want it running off to tell the Queen we were talking about these things, you know? We could lose our positions. Hey, you, come over here."

The knight called Sally beckoned him over, and, unable to resist an order, 113 shuffled closer until he stood in front of the two women. He was taller than most of the other B mages, and could see eye-level with the blonde. _She has pretty eyes_, he noticed, _they look like the sky…_

"If I give you this," the knight started as she plucked a coin out from between her breasts, "will you promise not to say anything to _anyone_?"

"You're going to _bribe_ it?" The black-haired guard asked, her voice high with surprise, "I doubt it even knows what money _is_!"

"Money goes a long way, Hilde, even with the ignorant. So, what's it gonna be, mage?"

Blinking wide, luminous eyes, 113 watched as the coin reflected the yellow light. It was pretty, he finally realized, and he _did_ want it. But why were they giving it to him? What would he say, anyway? He never spoke unless spoken to, and everyone important in the castle never asked him to speak, as it were. Out of anyone, whatever the two were talking about was safest with him.

"I-I promise," 113 murmured. His voice was deep, powerful, but quiet at the same time. He wasn't used to talking, so his own voice surprised him. It sounded strange to him.

"Good," Sally said, and reached out to take the mage's large hand. Before 113 could react, she had dropped the Gil coin into his palm, and closed his fingers around it. "Now, go and clean up this mud before someone sees it."

Hurrying off, the mage paused in the corridor to stare at the coin. It was silver with tiny bumps around the edges, and the Alexandrian castle had been carved into both sides. Every detail had been included, and 113 ran his thumb over the miniature castle in awe that someone had done that all by hand. There were letters beneath the carving, but with his limited reading skills, he couldn't make it out.

Stuffing it into the inside pocket of his robes, 113 took the stairs two at a time as he went in search of the storage closet. He needed a bucket and an old rag, and he needed it fast. If someone came through and stepped in the mud he'd knowingly left there… He didn't really want to think about what they could do to him, especially if that someone was important.

Finding what he needed, and filling the bucket with water from a small indoor fountain, he rushed back to the archway to scrub the stones clean. By the time he got there, the guards from before had been replaced by what 113 called 'Royals'. They were usually men, and they had white armor. These ones looked none too friendly, either.

Kneeling on the stone, he set to work, thinking of the coin in his pocket. Today had been strange. The guards usually never bothered to talk to him unless the conversation started with 'fetch me this,' or 'get me that.'

Little did he know that the following day would be even stranger.

A/N: Short chapter. I'm still trying to get into gear again when it comes to writing. I'm incredibly lazy, but the chapters will get progressively longer. As always, if you have suggestions or questions, please review.


End file.
